Karen Christine Angermayer
Hush,
it’s Christmas!
An Advent Story in 24 Chapters
Translation by
Sandra Nottingham-Müller and Tina Thrussell
To Johannes, Nike and Pino.
You are my angels,
and the greatest gifts
anyone could ever ask for
Hush,
it’s Christmas!
Copyright © 2017 by sorriso Verlag GmbH (Publisher).
All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information address sorriso Verlag GmbH (Publisher), Fritz-Reichle-Ring 8, D - 78315 Radolfzell, Germany. www.sorriso-verlag.com
© of the German edition (hardcover and paperback) by cbj,
Random House Group, Munich, in 2013.
© illustrations (front cover and interior) by Annette Swoboda
Layout: Susanne Büttner, trust marketing
ISBN: 978-3-946287-74-2
eISBN: 978-3-946287-75-9
This book is also available as E-book.
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Contents
December 1st
December 2nd
December 3rd
December 4th
December 5th
December 6th
December 7th
December 8th
December 9th
December 10th
December 11th
December 12th
December 13th
December 14th
December 15th
December 16th
December 17th
December 18th
December 19th
December 20th
December 21st
December 22nd
December 23rd
December 24th
About the Author
Special thanks to
December 1st
Bruno’s human Daddy and Mommy say that when a butterfly flaps its wings on the other side of the world, then something will happen here on our side, because everything is connected with everything.
Bruno is a dog who doesn’t believe in everything that humans say. He believes in trees where he can lift his doggy leg. He believes in two meals a day and very long naps and a big bone each Friday from the butcher, which takes him all weekend to chew into pieces. (He chews the bone into pieces, not the butcher.) But this year something really must have happened on the other side of the world, because Bruno’s peaceful world here is turned totally topsy-turvey.
It all started in India…
Hello, my name is Bruno and I am a Christmas expert. I have experienced six Christmases, which is like 42 Christmases, since one dog year counts as seven human years.
After 42 years, Christmas doesn’t upset me anymore, even though my humans go totally bonkers at Christmas time. They get what I call the ‘big barking’ in their heads. ‘Stress’ they call it. Sometimes it gets so bad that my Daddy forgets to bring my fresh Friday bone home, and my Mommy hardly has any time to snuggle and cuddle with me. She says she doesn’t know where her head is. Maybe her head is at the end of the world, where the butterflies are?
Anyway, I usually stay pretty calm during Christmas time. But this year is different. This year, Santa, the Christ Child, the Holy Three Kings and Scrooge have all conspired against me; they sent me a cat. A C A T!
A cat is the worst thing that can happen to a dog. This cat’s name is Tofu, um, I mean, Soy, like the milk she always drinks. Real yucky stuff that tastes awful. Even Daddy says that.
Soy is very picky when it comes to eating, and when she does eat, she makes sure to chew each mouthful 33 times. And she does yoga, oh my goodness! On top of that, she is a ‘know it all’. She seriously said that cats were the first animals on this planet. How hilarious is that?! Everybody knows that Adam and Eve had a dog. Why else did they need all the trees in paradise?
Soy will be staying here with us until Christmas Eve, because her human Mommy can’t pick her up until then. Soy’s Mommy had to suddenly go to India to help a friend that became very, very ill. India is on the other side of the world, and it’s still 23 days until Christmas Eve. That feels like forever! How in the world am I to survive?
But wait a minute, isn’t Christmas about making wishes? Let’s give it a try. I close my eyes and say, “Dear Christ Child, dear Holy Three Kings, dear cows in the manger, sheep, oxen and bed bugs, dear cinnamon cookies, gingerbread hearts and hot, roasted chestnuts… my wish to you is that today is already Christmas Eve. One, two, three!”
I open my eyes. My wish did not come true. The cat is still here, laying on my blanket. Today is the first of December. Still 23 agonizing days ahead, and at least as many cat hairs on my cuddle blanket. My nose is starting to tickle… Oh my gosh, I have a Christmas allergy! Achoo!
December 2nd
Advent calendars are a neat thing. Every day you get to open a little door, and behind that little door there is a surprise like chocolate or a story or a toy.
Soy made an advent calendar for Bruno. She invented it herself. There is no chocolate in it – instead it’s something soooo much better!
Okay, Bruno didn’t like day one of our new relationship so much, but he will love today, day two! Well, maybe. Today begins with Bruno’s fitness-and-fur-nourishing-program. I made this program specifically for him. Every day he has to do a little exercise, and by Christmas Eve he will be the fittest and most handsome dog in the entire world! Okay, he hated the push-ups yesterday, but he definitely will like today’s belly exercise.
“Bruno, get ready, door two on your calendar is waiting for you!” I say.
He opens his eyes. “Is there chocolate today?” he asks hopefully.
“No, but you can keep laying on your back. You have to push your spine onto the floor. Push your heels, too. Lift the upper part of your body and push your front paws to the front, as well!”
“What’s a spine?” Bruno asks, surprised.
I sigh, but I better keep my mouth shut. “Chin on your breast, and lift your head!” I say instead.
He looks at me totally clueless, then closes his eyes again.
“Hey, no time for sleeping, come on, I’ll help you!” I dig my front paws through his fur to reach under his back. “Up we go on the count of three. One, two, three!”
The giant dog jerks and then collapses like a wet sack.
“Imagine there is a large sausage hanging from the ceiling,” I call out. “Okay, once more, on the count of three! One, two, three!”
I try to lift Bruno’s back. His fur tickles my nose. Bruno manages to come up a little, but then his back drops again. “Ouch, you’re crushing me!” I cry out, as I barely make it out from under him. Bruno is panting heavily. From what?
“Come on, this is good for your tummy muscles, they will be thrilled,” I say.
“My tummy muscles would be more thrilled by a big bone,” he says with eyes closed, licking his chops.
“The only thing you’re thinking of is food!” I tell him.
“What will the Christ Child think of you?”
“The Christ Child certainly has other problems than my tummy,” Bruno growls, suspiciously dozy.
“That is what you believe. The Christ Child sees everything!” I call out. “He watches over everyone who wants to get a gift on Christmas Eve.”
Bruno doesn’t answer. There is a moment of silence.
“Hey, what do you think? What does the Christ Child look like?” I ask him after a w
hile. “Have you ever seen him? … Bruno? BRUNO!” Oh no, the dog went back to sleep. I can’t believe it! Well, as soon as he gets hungry he will wake up again, and then I will find out what the Christ Child looks like. Maybe he looks like me?
December 3rd
Everyone is always talking about the Christ Child, but has anyone ever seen him? What does he look like? Does he have dark or light fur, short or long hair?
And is the Christ Child a Christ dog or a Christ cat? Bruno is sure it’s a dog, but Soy insists that it can only be a cat. So, who is right?
“I believe the Christ Child looks like me!” Soy cries out happily. She is already awake again. Doesn’t she ever need any sleep?
“You’re wrong,” I growl. “First of all, he’s a dog, and secondly, he looks like me.”
“Dream on, the Christ Child is a cat,” Soy laughs.
Typical. She always knows everything better and she never backs down - not even a tiny cat nose bit. I try to stay peaceful. I learned how to do that from my human parents. They went to a workshop called ‘nonviolent communication’. I have no clue. Anyway, since they went to the workshop, they talk differently to each other. Now Daddy only rolls his eyes when he thinks that Mommy isn’t looking.
I explain to Soy, “The Christ Child has to deliver presents to all the children in the entire world. You need muscles for that, and only a big, strong, manly dog has those. I figure the Christ Child is a German Shepard or a Saint Bernard, or a Sheep Dog. A Sheep Dog can even pull the sled with all the toys.”
Soy is outraged. “Sled Dogs? They look dangerous. The children will be frightened! No, no the Christ Child is a cat. A fine Persian, cream colored cat with golden curls in its fur that shine like angel’s hair! That’s what the Christ Child looks like. And he has many helper kitties that help him give out all the gifts, and all the kitties look alike!”
What a strange vision! The sky full of golden, curly haired kitties that throw out gifts on Christmas Eve. I have an idea. “Ha!” I call out. “Humans are always talking about Christmass - that comes from a mass of sausages, and dogs love to eat sausages. That’s it! The Christ Child is a Christmass and on Christmas he’s rewarded with a very large sausage for all the hard work. So he’s a dog!”
I am very happy with this solution. Soy is not. Instead of an answer she hands me a jump rope. “Here, imagine this is a string of sausages,” she tells me dryly. “If you keep on thinking about food you are going to die of a bad heart! We will continue our conversation after your exercises.”
Bad heart! What nonsense. Why does she think that? She is no fortune teller. There is no such thing as a fortune teller, and the Christ Child is a dog!
December 4th
The strange cat under the couch says she is a fortune teller. Soy doesn’t believe her.
But why does this strange cat know so much about Soy and Bruno? How can she know that something bad will happen, and how can anyone stop it?
My Mommy says that nothing happens by chance. Well I don’t know what a chance is, but this morning my rag mouse landed on the couch as I was playing with it, and when I pounced after it there was a big, red ball laying there, and there was a strange cat face in the ball. Her snout was huge and her eyes were tiny and cruel. At first I was frightened, but because I am so nosey, I crept up to her inch by inch. Suddenly the ‘ball cat’ started to talk. She claimed she could tell fortunes. Of course, I didn’t believe her!
“Did Bruno do his fitness exercises?” she asked me. Of course he didn’t. “See,” she said, before I could even answer her. “And I guess you were mad at him.”
Ohhh yes, I was!
Then she said, “Let me guess, it’s snowing outside,” and that, too, was right. “And Bruno’s Daddy stepped on your tail today.”
This was slowly getting scary! The red monster cat was right about everything. Then she said something terrible that had to do with lots of stars and dying. I didn’t want to hear any of this! So, I shoved her off the couch. She shattered into a thousand pieces on the floor. Then I shoved all her friends (that sat three in a row in a box on the coffee table) on the floor, too. The crash was a wonderful sound!
Only Mommy and Daddy didn’t find it wonderful. “Oh no, the pretty, old Christmas tree decorations from Aunt Agatha!” they cried out.
I don’t know who Agatha is. She’s probably as stone dead as the monster cat. After this adventure a little nap would be nice. But help! What is this? Suddenly, I see stars. Stars everywhere… and what is that terrible noise?! No! Help! Don’t… I don’t want to die!!!!!
“Tommi, you shouldn’t scare the animals with the sparklers!” I suddenly hear Mommy shouting angrily. Tommi is eight years old. He and Tina are twins. Mommy takes away the sparklers and hands him the dust pan. I can take a deep breath. Suddenly a heavy paw sinks down on my belly and I see a huge snout hovering over my face. Is this what it feels like to die?! Did the monster cat tell the truth?
No, the snout is just Bruno’s. His breath smells monstrously of sausage as he says, “Soy, wake up and stop meowing so loud. You’re dreaming!”
December 5th
The case is clear for Soy - Bruno is a thief. Who else would have stolen her snow mouse? It took her many hours to build the snow mouse out in the garden and she is very angry that it’s gone.
Be careful! You shouldn’t accuse anybody for wrong doings if you don’t have any evidence. What if the culprit is someone you would have never thought of?
“Give me my mouse!” Soy hisses at me.
“Well, that’s a nice way to be awakened! What do I need a mouse for? I’m a dog,” I reply.
“If you don’t give me my mouse back, I’ll hide your Friday bone!” she says as she prances away.
“Hey! Stop! Wait!” I call out as she keeps on walking away. “Then you’re a thief!” I yell after her.
In the afternoon, as I am looking for my bone, I realize it’s gone. Ohhh, just you wait. Without further ado, I hide Soy’s water dish. She grabs my rubber duck and hides it. I hide her favorite cushion. She hides my bowl. I take her rag mouse… This goes on for a while. In the end, we both look at each other in the living room. We have no place to sleep, and nothing to eat or drink, but we don’t care. Revenge is sweet and we’re not done, yet!
“You should never lie,” Soy hisses at me. “Especially not to a friend!” Her eyes sparkle at me.
Are we friends? That’s new to me. “I’m not lying,” I defend myself. “I had nothing to do with your mouse. Now, please, give my stuff back. I want to lay down and rest.”
“Forget it,” she snorts, “and in case you didn’t know, lies have short legs!”
I imagine getting up in the morning and my belly is dragging on the floor because my legs have shrunken to the size of a Dachshund’s. It’s kind of a funny vision, but still I’m hurt by Soy’s accusation. It isn’t nice to be called a thief, especially when you really aren’t one.
In the afternoon Mommy tells Daddy, “The toilet is broken.” So, Daddy goes to work to try and fix it. He screws and screws and flushes and flushes, but nothing happens. Eventually, he pulls my dripping wet rubber duck out of the toilet tank. That is not funny!
Later, Tommi and Tina call out, “There’s a dead body in our garden!” But it was only my Friday bone peeking through the rosebush. I’m so happy to have it back. And Daddy found his reading glasses on the lawn. “The things that appear when the snow melts!” he laughs.
So, the sun ‘stole’ the snow mouse. I remember now. It was pretty warm outside. Soy’s snow mouse must have melted.
Of course, Soy didn’t apologize, but she did forget my exercises. Or she just acted like she forgot. Fine by me. I am going to go get some sleep now. Good Night!
December 6th
Bruno snores. At least, that’s what Soy says. Bruno won’t take the blame, like all snorers won’t.
How can Soy prove that she’s right? It seems complicated. She finds the solution that not only leads to the snorer, but also un
earths a surprise.
“Zzzzzz, Zzzzzz, Zzzzzz, Zzzzzz…”
Oh no! Bruno is snoring again. If this keeps up I won’t get any sleep at all!
“Zzzzzz, Zzzzzz, Zzzzzz, Zzzzzz…”
What a gross guttural sound! I imagine his big, pink tonsils vibrating. That’s enough! I wake him up by shaking him.
Bruno looks at me, all crumpled up and sleepy. “Me? I don’t snore, as you can hear!” he says. And really, the snoring has stopped. Oh right, he is awake. After all, you can’t be awake and snore at once.
Bruno falls quickly back to sleep. Shucks! I know that it was him and here he goes AGAIN. Hmmm… let me think… Tina and Tommi have an old cassette tape recorder.
I tiptoe into their room, clamp the handle between my teeth and lumber back into the living room with it. I push a button. Oh my, the music is sooo loud! I hurry to push the ‘stop’ button. Where is the ‘record’ button? Maybe the one on the far left? A red light flashes as I push it.
Mmmmm, suddenly I am very tired…
Oops! I must have fallen asleep. It’s already getting light outside. Bruno is also slowly waking up. Ha! I’m going to play the evidence for him right away!
The sound “Zzzzzz, Zzzzzz, Zzzzzz, Zzzzzz…” plays from the recorder.
“What is that?” Bruno asks, still a bit sleepy.
“That is you,” I say triumphantly. We listen to the sawing noise and suddenly a voice says, “I don’t speeaak in my sleeep.” The voice sounds suspiciously like my own voice.
Bruno grins, “And what is that?” he asks.
I don’t say anything, but frantically look for the stop button. My head feels hot and my face turns red.
“Neeeeeverr do I speeeak in my sleep,” my voice mumbles out of the recorder. “I am as quiet as a church mouse.” I look at Bruno, shocked.
Hush, It’s Christmas Page 1